PRATTMarla Mason, sorcerer in exile, looked over the railing of the balcony, down at the lavish resort hotel’s pool with its swim-up bar and tanned, happy people lounging on chairs, and thought, I can’t take another day of this.‘‘I can’t take another day of this,’’ she said aloud to her companion, Rondeau, who leaned on the rail popping macadamia nuts into his mouth from a tin. He wore the most outrageous aloha shirt Marla had ever seen – its eye-wrenching pattern included not only parrots and palm trees but also sailboats and sunsets and what appeared to be carnivorous plants – and had the self-satisfied look of someone with more money in the bank than he could spend in even a fairly dissolute lifetime. ‘‘Come on,’’ he said. ‘‘It’s a beautiful day. Enjoy it.’’‘‘We’re on Maui. In a resort, no less. Of course it’s a beautiful day. So was yesterday. I’ll lay even money tomorrow will be, too. I’m bored. I hate being bored.’’He shrugged. ‘‘So go look for a fight.
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